


Fake It 'Til You Bake It

by LadyDisdayne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Qui-Gon Jinn, Baker Obi-Wan Kenobi, Baker Qui-Gon Jinn, Bakery, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Food Network AU, Food Porn, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, bake offs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne
Summary: When his apprentice almost burns down his bakery, classically trained baker Obi-Wan has no choice but to compete in a network TV Halloween Bake-Off.  Unfortunately for him, it is a team competition and he had no choice but to work with once lover turned bitter rival Qui-Gon Jinn.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 88
Collections: Star Wars Alternate Universes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Halloween treat for the absolutely wonderful QuiObi Server. Thank you chibi and cat for the beta and encouragement!

“I apologize, I think I misheard. You want me to work with  _ who?”  _

“Qui-Gon Jinn. You’re from the same city and we assumed that you knew each other.”

“Oh, I know him alright.” Obi-Wan was practically standing, his normally calm demeanor slipping, “I don't care who I end up working with, I can work with anyone but that stubborn, giant-ass of an  _ art teacher  _ turned glorified home baker.”

Tahl, the producer, didn’t even blink. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kenobi, but this is a team competition. All of the other competitors applied with their teammate already chosen. We are only considering Mr. Jinn and yourself because you are from the same town and could pass as a team, despite applying as singles.”

Obi-Wan looked at the producer of  _ The Great Halloween Bake-Off, _ and then back to the contract that sat before him, outlining the details of competing on the show. He wouldn’t even be considering letting himself fall this low if he didn’t need the money after one of his junior staff accidentally tried to burn down his brick and mortar. The damage wasn’t structural, but paint and new ovens were not cheap and the insurance only covered so much. 

It had taken Obi-Wan years to work his way through pastry school and then through the finest restaurants and patisseries around the world to finally be able to open his own shop in his hometown. He had practically built the store with his bare hands, laying tile and brick and paint until he had made his dream come true. 

He loved  _ Boga  _ more than anything. It was his home, the people he worked with his only family. He needed to win this competition not only for himself, but for his crew. He couldn’t even bring himself to punish, let alone  _ fire _ , Cal for the mistake. If he was honest, it was his own fault for not providing his apprentice with enough training. 

Obi-Wan sighed, sitting back down in the chair. Part of him wondered if the network knew about his “rivalry” with Qui-Gon, if you could really call it that. It had gone viral after it got out of hand the year prior at a competition, resulting in both of them being disqualified for misconduct, as well as fluffy pink frosting covering them both and half of the competition kitchen.

It had been ongoing since, the most recent incident a month prior when a bride had booked cakes from them  _ both _ and told them about it in advance. At least the bride was pleased when they both showed up with intricate masterpieces of sugar and flour. The planner was less pleased when a shouting match broke out during the delivery. 

A flash of anger swept through him at the memories and old hurt he tried to keep buried deep, always tainted with something he didn’t dare think about. He shook his head at the half forgotten memory of sweet frosting and bitter lost potential. 

“And what did  _ Qui-Gon _ have to say about this?” Obi-Wan asked, trying and failing to look disinterested. 

The producer grinned, knowing they had him hooked. “Oh, Mr. Jinn agreed the moment he heard your name. Something about knowing just how good you could be together.”

_ Of course he would say that _ , thought Obi-Wan. The man was shameless. He could practically see the half smirk Qui-Gon would have made at the remark as well, pleased with himself while he tried to hide it behind a large hand. Hard working, rough,  _ teasing  _ hands that— 

“Fine.” Obi-Wan grunted out. “I’ll do it.”

The producer’s smile widened. “Perfect. It will be a five episode series, starting with six teams. Filming will be done over five days, with two challenges per episode, with supplemental interviews being shot the same day.”

Obi-Wan tried to force himself to relax and keep his mind on track as he nodded, signing and initialing the document as they went through the agreement. 

It would only be for five days. He could do anything for five days, if it was for  _ Boga  _ and his team. 

Even if it meant ripping out his own heart and serving to Qui-Gon Jinn on a silver platter. 

* * *

Qui-Gon had reached out only once during the two months before they were scheduled to begin filming, thanking him for agreeing to be Qui-Gon’s partner and his excitement for the upcoming competition.

Obi-Wan hadn’t bothered to send a reply, and the remaining weeks all at once sped by and trickled slower than molasses. Even after the insurance came back with enough money to replace the oven and reopen business close to full capacity, anticipation crept through Obi-Wan’s heart each day. For what he dared not think about too closely. 

Obi-Wan was fortunate, the studio’s filming location was only an hour from his home and so, unlike many of the other teams, he was able to wait until the night before filming began to check into the hotel room he had been assigned. He arrived late enough that he avoided running into any other contestants, or at least anyone he recognized. 

Running the patisserie required early mornings and late nights, and normally Obi-Wan slept like the dead when he could. Instead, he tossed and turned on the too soft hotel bed in anticipation of what the morning would bring. 

No matter how used to four am Obi-Wan was, his body still ached when he made his way across the street to the studio after his restless night. The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a soft glow across the city. 

The standby room was large, but still felt cramped with the dozen excited bakers packed inside. He recognized a fair number of the contestants from various other contests and challenges over the years. Many of them were seasoned bakers or bright younger chefs, eager to prove themselves in a hard industry. 

“Cal? What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan was surprised to see his apprentice among the younger contestants. Cal, despite trying to burn down the shop by accident, was a brilliant baker and one of the brightest students Obi-Wan had ever seen. 

“Oh, Mr. Kenobi. I, well, I um…” Cal blushed, fidgeting as he stood beside Merrin, who owned Night Sister’s, an up and coming macaroon company that used to rent their kitchen on Sundays before setting up their own, along with her sister, Ventress. Obi-Wan knew Cal had gotten close to Merrin, but hadn’t been aware that they were quite  _ this  _ close.

“Asajj decided to apply with Quinlan Vos, Force knows why. I asked Cal to help me out so I could destroy her once and for all.” Merrin placed a kind hand on Cal’s shoulder, her grin wicked sharp at her own joke. 

“And I figured, I figured this way I could pay you back, Chef. If I won.” Cal bowed his head, leaning into Merrin. 

Obi-Wan frowned, “You don’t have to do that you know, Cal. We talked about this and I should have trained you better before giving you an opening shift on your own. If you win, you need to keep the money.”

Cal shook his head, ready to argue. 

“Obi-Wan.” The familiar deep velvet voice sent a shiver down Obi-Wan spine and he stiffened, ready for the inevitable argument as he turned around to find Qui-Gon approaching, hand outstretched in greeting. 

“Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan returned through clenched teeth.

Qui-Gon was smiling, welcoming. “It’s good to see you again. Are you ready to take these kids to school?”

Merrin snorted, “Who do you think you are calling a kid,  _ old man.”  _

“Merrin, it is good to see you my dear.” Qui-Gon switched focus, kissing her hand and inquiring about her business. Obi-Wan was surprised that they had stayed in touch after the events of the year before. Not that he expected the other bakers to take sides, but with Qui-Gon’s schedule and interests, it was surprising.

The entire interaction was pleasant enough, and Obi-Wan felt a small knot of tension release from his shoulder blades as the small group moved onto how the recent humidity was affecting their business and recent social media trends until the producers pulled them into their first team interviews.

“Tell me about how you two met.” Their assigned producer, Aalya, asked off camera. 

Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon, suddenly regretting not discussing anything beforehand. 

Qui-Gon was grinning, his eyes soft with something Obi-Wan couldn’t parse, “It’s been what, five years now, Obi-Wan?” Obi-Wan nodded, “He was actually one of my art students. Traditional mediums if I remember correctly.”

It had been Yoda, a mutual friend and Obi-Wan’s mentor, who had recommended the community course to Obi-Wan, to expand his artistic vision. Before the class, he had started to feel stagnant as the assistant pastry chef to Yoda at  _ The Temple _ , and the wise master had thought the change and challenge might help.

Obi-Wan hadn’t expected to enjoy the traditional painting and sculpting as much as he had, and struggled at first. But Qui-Gon was a master teacher in his own right and had taken Obi-Wan under his wing, guiding Obi-Wan one on one after hours until he was able to, if not master, become proficient in many of the materials Qui-Gon taught. They had become fast friends, even after the six week class had long ended. 

“Is that what got Qui-Gon into baking then? Your friendship?” 

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to plaster on a smile, “It was. It actually started as a bit of a joke really, a friendly contest. You see, Qui-Gon here thought that working with cake would be like working with clay. So, I gave him a pre stacked cake and let him go for it.” 

Qui-Gon laughed, deep and genuine. “I think more cake ended up on the floor than on the cake stand.”

Obi-Wan’s smile turned bright at the memory of Qui-Gon’s frustrated mutterings and forest green frosting that stained his face and hands. 

“I honestly thought that would be the end of it.” Obi-Wan added, “But he never stops surprising me. The very next day he was back in my kitchen, asking me to teach him everything, starting at the very basics.”

_ And that's only the half of it,  _ Obi-Wan thought. Qui-Gon had spent everyday begging Obi-Wan to teach him more, devouring everything Obi-Wan could throw at him. Before they knew it, Qui-Gon was helping him set up  _ Boga  _ and even assisting on catering work and cake designs. He was wildly creative and hard working, his skills soon surpassing some bakers that had been in the industry for decades.

“And then I never left.” Qui-Gon took over, “When the school I worked for funding was cut and they asked me to start providing more of my own art supplies, it was Obi-Wan’s idea for me to start selling cakes of my own. 

Obi-Wan frowned. That wasn’t quite as he remembered it, but time had made the memory thin. 

The rest of the interview went by quickly, the network eager to throw their teams into the frey of actually baking. 

The first challenge was simple enough, layered petit fours inspired by a witch’s familiar. They had spent so long working side by side for close to four years, falling back into a routine with Qui-Gon was like riding a bike. If the bike was six foot four and as stubborn as a mule. 

They were even able to come in second during the first challenge for their licorice and marshmallow flavored spider web designed petit fours, the lead going to a team Obi-Wan was unfamiliar with, Kanan and Ezra. 

The hardest part at that point had actually been putting up with the two hosts, Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano. The duo were kind enough, but their endless jokes and teasing had already started to wear on Obi-Wan, who preferred his kitchen without fake spiders falling from the ceiling and maniacal laughter of the hosts. 

The contestants had been told before filming began that they were expected to laugh anytime the judges or hosts made a joke or pun, or scream with fright in response to the preplanned jump scares. Obi-Wan hated it and participated as little as he could get away with, but Qui-Gon took to it as easily and with as much dedication as he did everything else in his life, laughing wholeheartedly at every small pun. 

Ventress seemed to be the only exception, scowling her way through the first challenge and even into the judging. Anakin and Ahsoka took great delight in trying to scare her throughout the challenges, and judges had decided to do the same during the judgement period. 

At first glance, the judges seemed much more aloof than Obi-Wan expected. Padme was a well known child internet baking star, rising to fame at just fourteen for her elaborate decorated cakes and sugar cookies. The network had signed her on as a full time host and judge at twenty, and the rest was history. 

Padme was joined by Mace Windu, a long standing institution in the chocolate and sugar work world, known for towering sculptures and designs that defied gravity, and an actor that went by the name of Jar Jar Binks. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why a child’s entertainer had made it into the judging circle, but he had and now Obi-Wan had to smile and laugh with the rest of them.

The main heat challenge was to create witch hat themed cupcakes from sweet fall flavors and savory party snacks that they needed to arrange in a display case they had been given. The winning team of the first challenge had been given the advantage of assigning the other teams their flavors, “gifting” Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon nacho cheese chips and pumpkin. While it wasn’t nearly as bad as Cal and Merrin's assigned maple cake and jalapeno cheese dip, it was still gross enough to make him question his life choices. 

Obi-Wan had just started on their cinnamon buttercream when he heard Qui-Gon hum and the familiar, quick  _ splat splat splat  _ of eggs being poured into a mixing bowl on high speed. Obi-Wan spun on his heels, watching in horror as the last three eggs were dumped into the sugar and oil that Qui-Gon had been mixing for their pumpkin spice cake batter. 

“You can’t just throw the eggs in there all at once! It’s going to  _ curdle. _ ” Obi-Wan yelled, horrified. 

“Whoops, I just did. It’s going to be fine. Watch.” Qui-Gon smirked and sprinkled in a large spoonful of their flour mixture.

“Still doesn’t mean it’s going to bake fine, Qui-Gon.”

“You might be surprised, Obi-Wan. Things don’t always have to be perfect for them to work out.”

Obi-Wan bristled, “What is your problem!? Baking is a  _ science  _ and a careful art. Not some Jackson Pollock slap together painting.”

“While I am surprised you even came up with such an artistic insult, look it's totally fine.”

Obi-Wan looked down, sucking in a deep breath to begin the argument anew, but instead of the curdled mess he expected, their batter was fluffy and smooth, the perfect consistency. 

“Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it's wrong Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon chuckled, adding the rest off the flour in alternating batches with the liquids. 

Obi-Wan snapped, “Proper methods are proper for a reason. Just because it worked out this time doesn’t mean it will in the future.”

Qui-Gon hummed and started pouring the batter into their round molds. Obi-Wan went back to his frosting, beating the butter and sugar furiously by hand, silently watching his teammate porton out their cupcakes before putting them into the oven. 

“Bakers! Can I have your attention please!” Anakin yelled, his overly pleased smile grating on Obi-Wan’s already fraying nerves. “Whether it’s eye of newt or frog toes, no witch's brew is complete without some majorly magical ingredients!”

“Your bakes must also include one of these wicked witch ingredients!” Ahsoka strode up next to Anakin, a large basket of jars in her arms. Obi-Wan groaned looking at the neon colors in the containers. Gummy candies were one of his least favorite things, full of artificial flavors and colors as well as thickeners and gelatin that could potentially throw off their entire bake off. 

“Come pick a jar!” Ahsoka called out and the teams scrambled to grab their twist ingredients. Qui-Gon, with his long reach, was practically first, and came back to their station with a large jar filled with a bright red gummy.

“Cinnamon bears?” Obi-Wan choked a bit on the overwhelming scent of artificial cinnamon and red food dye as Qui-Gon popped open the lid. 

Qui-Gon nodded. “I figured we could melt it into the cheesecake filling? We could make it blood red, add another creepy factor to the cupcakes. Plus if we cut back the sugar in the batter, the cream cheese can do a lot of the work for us in terms of masking the sticky sweetness and that terrible artificial cinnamon.

“That's… That’s really smart.” Qui-Gon beamed at the praise. Obi-Wan was surprised, Qui-Gon had come a long way in the year they had been apart. He had always been wildly artist and creative, but that had sometimes got him into trouble in the flavor profiles department. Part of Obi-Wan winced, remembering the overpowering flavor of Qui-Gon’s “special walnut blue cheese frosting.”

By the time they had moved onto decorations, Obi-Wan had once again settled his mind and they were even ahead of schedule. They had decided to hide the nacho chips in their decorations, coating the triangles in various chocolates and making them look like a witch’s pointy hat. 

Qui-Gon was painting their assigned display case to look like a storefront, catering to witchy clients with their cupcakes as the wares. The hope was that it would look like a witch’s hat boutique, complete with a window shopping, hand sculpted witch made from modeling chocolate and marzipan. 

Time sped by in a blur of chocolate and cake, and before Obi-Wan knew it, the hosts were yelling their final countdown. They had accomplished almost everything they had set out to do, and Obi-Wan was confident that they would at least move on to the next round, if not win the challenge. 

Getting to the actual judges table took far longer than Obi-Wan expected, with interviews and time for the judges to mill around and examine the displays in detail without the contestants present. 

During their waiting period, Qui-Gon avoided Obi-Wan, laughing with the other teams and producers. It was hard to ignore the small throb in Obi-Wan’s chest, the longing he felt to have things be easy between them again. It was harder still to forgive Qui-Gon. Or at least, that is what Obi-Wan told himself as he closed his eyes, trying and failing to calm is heart. 

They were soon called back for the judgement proper, and even Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the judges all dressed up in over elaborate costumes. Mace looked like he was in pain, while Jar-Jar and Padme laughed like they were having the time of their lives.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were praised heavily for their theme and decorations, and they both beamed at the judges' ohs and ahs when they cut into the cupcake’s center and their blood red cinnamon gummy bear filling oozed out. 

And then Mace took his first bite of the cake and everything quickly went downhill. 

“Overbaked.” Padme said, final and cutting as she snaked her lips, continuing to describe the cake itself was dry and crumbly.

Obi-Wan fumed, sure that the fault lay in Qui-Gon’s ridiculous cheat. 

Obi-Wan pointed at Qui-Gon’s chest, anger bubbling deep in his chest. “Qui-Gon Jinn, I fucking  _ swear,  _ if you cost us the win again with your lazy tricks—” __

“Obi-Wan! Not  _ here.”  _ Qui-Gon hissed, cutting him off and looking around before pulling Obi-Wan down the empty hallway and pushing him through a small door. A small light cord dangled from the ceiling, but pulling it only resulted in another layer of dust in the abandoned closet.

They stood chest to chest in the darkness, almost touching, their breathing heavy and warm in the suddenly too small space. 

Obi-Wan tried to ignore the fire building low in his stomach, channeling it instead into anger. “Qui-Gon, this may come as a surprise to someone who runs a business called  _ The Maverick _ , but  _ you can’t just wing it all the time.  _ Especially in a competition like this! Rules are there for a reason. Methods exist because they  _ work. _ You—”

Before Obi-Wan could continue, his breath was stolen by soft lips against his own, hungry and demanding as a large hand pulled his body closer. Qui-Gon’s thigh pressed between his own, making Obi-Wan hiss at the friction against his already too tight jeans. 

“Tell me if you don’t want this and I’ll stop right now.” Qui-Gon growled, nuzzling his nose against Obi-Wan’s neck, waiting for Obi-Wan to answer before he would proceed. 

Obi-Wan knew he should tell him no, should push Qui-Gon away before this went any further. But he  _ wanted.  _ Wanted whatever he could get from Qui-Gon, however he could get it, even now after a year of rage fueled rivalry, of festering pain in his chest every time he saw Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan returned the kiss, pushing back against the firm body, licking up into Qui-Gon’s mouth. He tasted of chocolate and of the disgusting cinnamon bears they had been tasked with for the main challenge’s twist, undercut with something that could only be described as  _ Qui-Gon _ . Obi-Wan easily lost himself in it, relishing each demanding touch and caress. 

He had tried to forget just how masterful Qui-Gon was with his hands, and he keened when the much larger man lifted him with ease to rock his thigh between Obi-Wan’s legs, pressing against his now hard length. A hand trailed up Obi-Wan’s abdomen, tracing the lines of his stomach and muscles until finally reaching Obi-Wan’s nipple and twisting and pinching. 

Obi-Wan moaned and shifted again, instinctively seeking  _ more _ . 

“So good for me, my Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon carded his free hand through Obi-Wan’s hair, humming. “You’ve let your hair grow. It’s beautiful.” The fingers gave a slight tug and Obi-Wan moaned, chasing the friction he so desperately needed. 

Qui-Gon’s hand moved, twisting Obi-Wan’s other nipple, driving him closer to the edge as Qui-Gon shifted again, palming back and forth between the hardened peaks. Obi-Wan let himself sink against Qui-Gon, driving his own thigh against Qui-Gon’s cock in the movement, marveling at the impossible length. Obi-Wan’s trust forward, and pulled back, firmly humping against Qui-Gon’s thigh. 

“That’s it. Take what you need. What you  _ want _ .” Obi-Wan teetered on the edge of oblivion, panting with every breath. Qui-Gon kissed him again and Obi-Wan fell, white hot pleasure over taking him. Obi-Wan would have screamed had Qui-Gon not deepened the kiss, stealing his breath once more. 

Qui-Gon groaned in return, his cock twitching with his own release against Obi-Wan’s thigh. Obi-Wan sank into Qui-Gon’s arms, letting himself be carried away by the afterglow, of being tightly held in Qui-Gon’s arms. 

Eventually, Qui-Gon checked his watch and hummed. “We should probably get back before anyone notices we’re gone. Good thing we are done with filming for the day.”

Obi-Wan nodded, grimacing at the cooling stickiness in his pants. “This conversation isn’t over, Qui-Gon. You need to pay attention, follow proper techniques. It’s the only way we are going to win.”

Qui-Gon chuckled and held the door open, letting Obi-Wan exit first. 

“Until tomorrow then, my Obi-Wan.” The kiss was chaste, a soft peck against Obi-Wan’s mouth, but somehow it was more devastating than anything they had done in that closet. 

Alone in his small hotel room, Obi-Wan tossed and turned the night away, ashamed that he had been weak enough to give into his desires. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized it was unfair to put the blame for their baking mistake on Qui-Gon. He had heard the buzzer for their timer and had ignored it for their decorations. 

But at the time he had been so  _ angry.  _ Angry at Qui-Gon for improving so much without him. For moving on with his life while Obi-Wan’s heart still ached and burned for him. Obi-Wan rolled over, willing himself to sleep as he vowed that he wouldn’t let himself make the same mistakes again. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning came much too quickly, with filming scheduled to begin before six, starting with yet another round of interviews. 

“So Obi-Wan, when did you realize that Qui-Gon would be able to hold his own in a baking competition? I understand that you have competed a few times against each other now?”

“He decided to bake me a cake for my birthday. We had been so busy working on _Boga_ that I had completely forgotten about it.” Obi-Wan laughed genuinely at the memory, ignoring the sharp stab in his chest. It was also the day he had realized he was completely and utterly in love with Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Really, _that's_ when you knew?”

Obi-Wan snickered again, “You see, we ended up at his house after working late into the night with a few drinks, when I finally remembered that it was my birthday, and he looked me in the eye, drunk as anything and said, ‘Obi-Wan, you make such good cakes for everyone. You deserve to have one made for you.’ And he did. Entirely by eye, nothing measured. And, this could have been the whiskey, but it was one of the most delicious cakes I’ve ever had”

The producer laughed, and Obi-Wan glanced to Qui-Gon, his chest tightening at the small smile on Qui-Gon’s face. There was more to the memory, careful touches as they mixed frosting, Qui-Gon’s warm hand wiping sugar from Obi-Wan’s brow. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder if Qui-Gon remembered that night with the same fondness, or if it was just another moment to be lived in. 

The producer moved on, asking about favorite flavors and other filler information before they were released back out into the studio proper for the first heat. The day’s theme was all about the “trick or treat'' phrase, with the first task dedicated to the “treat. The contestants were asked to create desserts from popular candy flavors, specifically a chocolate and caramel variety for the first round. 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon settled on making caramel filled churros with a Mexican inspired chocolate dipping sauce that they would decorate to look like various clown props. Obi-Wan had just started on the caramel, letting himself get lost in the bubbles of browning sugar, when Anakin and Ahsoka’s thundering laughter caught him by surprise.

He barely caught Qui-Gon’s soft, “Watch” over the sound. 

“Hey, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon and the hosts with a hum. “ _C_ _hurro_ I need.” He held up a freshly fried churro for emphasis. 

It was an old game, Qui-Gon’s ingredient puns. Obi-Wan simply rolled his eyes in response, unwilling to be drawn in by Qui-Gon’s easy laugh. 

“Come now, Obi-Wan, you’re the _zest_ thing that's ever happened to me.” The honesty in Qui-Gon’s voice settled deep into the cracks of Obi-Wan’s heart. 

“Apparently, it’s just not _mint_ to be, Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan snapped in reply, choking on the bitterness in his voice. For anyone else, it would sound like a simple pun, the host's peels of laughter echoing in the kitchen, but Qui-Gon stepped back, his brows creased in a frown.

They made it through the challenge without further incident, which came as a surprise to Obi-Wan. After the puns, he couldn’t stop thinking of the night Qui-Gon made him a birthday cake and just how happy he had been in that moment. 

Obi-Wan spent the time during Qui-Gon’s individual interview mediating on why he found it so difficult to let his feelings go. It was obvious that Qui-Gon had moved on, any attachment he felt fading easily with his live in the moment philosophy. 

“Obi-Wan? Mind if I join you?” Obi-Wan looked up. Another familiar face stood above him, hand outstretched in greeting. 

“Quinlan! It’s good to see you, my old friend. Please sit!” Quinlan Vos had started his career at _The Temple_ alongside Obi-Wan years before, but had moved on much earlier, traveling the world after winning some sort of social media contract as a traveling foodie. 

“What brings you back after all these years, Quinlan? And to compete on network television alongside _Asajj Ventress_ of all people?” Ventress was known for her delicious macaroons, but her personality was anything but sweet. 

Quinlan laughed, “You know, I’m not even sure. Asajj called me up and asked and for some reason, I said yes. It was a ten hour flight back.”

“Sounds like you’ve been having quite the adventure.”

“As have you, working with Qui-Gon Jinn again, hummm.” Quinlan wiggled his eyebrows, but quickly moved on noticing Obi-Wan’s defeated sigh, “And opening _Boga_ last year! How’s it feel to have your own brick and mortar and get out from under the troll?”

Obi-Wan smiled, “Good. Really good, actually.”

Quinlan glanced up as a door creaked open, and they both watched as Anakin tried to sneak out the back without anyone noticing. 

“Now, what do you suppose he’s up to?” Obi-Wan asked, more to himself than anyone else. 

“I’m not sure, but have you noticed he keeps following Padme around like a lost puppy? It’s kind of adorable.” Quinlan laughed. Obi-Wan had noticed, but had been too distracted by issues of his own to really pay it much mind. 

They chatted a while longer, catching up like the years they had spent apart meant little. The door opened again and Obi-Wan felt the back of his neck prickle under someone's gaze. He looked around, finding Qui-Gon standing by the door, watching him with a small smile. He waived, unsure of what else to do. 

The bakers were called back into the studio, gathered around a massive clown shaped piñata with a large cord anchoring it to the ceiling. Qui-Gon scrunched his nose and many of the contestants groaned at the sight. Anakin and Ahsoka were suspiciously absent from the announcement, Padme standing in for them. 

“Bakers, as you know, today has been all about the tricks and treats of Halloween. This morning one team truly gave us a treat with their caramel and chocolate delight, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon!”

Obi-Wan was surprised, they had gotten flooded with complements during the judging, but he had been sure someone would do them better. 

“Now, for this afternoon’s main challenge, we will turn our attention to the tricks!” Padme pulled at the piñata’s anchor cord and a large _CRACK_ echoed off the studio walls, making Obi-Wan jump backwards, right into Qui-Gon’s arms. The clown’s face split open, spraying confetti onto the contestants.

“SURPRISE!” Ahsoka and Anakin jumped out of the opening, throwing more confetti as they giggled.

Obi-Wan shook off Qui-Gon’s supporting hands, dusting the bits of colored paper from his apron while the hosts took their positions, Padme disappearing through the studio doors. 

“I hope you were all pleasantly surprised and are ready to do some tricks of your own.” Anakin drew their attention back to the now mutilated clown piñata, revealing a list of desserts, ranging from cookies to cakes to chocolate domes. 

“The judges would like you each to create a dessert with a surprise inside.” Ahsoka explained. “Whether it is a piñata cake or cookies, or a light chocolate dome, each of you will need to break out all of your best Halloween tricks of the trade.”

“Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon,” Anakin continued, “As the winners of the pre-heat, you get to choose what dessert each team will be assigned.” He took the five cards off of the wall, handing them to Qui-Gon. 

“Are you okay with the piñata cake, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon whispered. Obi-Wan nodded. They had been flooded with orders for unicorn piñata cakes all summer, and he knew it was something they could do, and do _well,_ in the time limit. They dolled out the rest of the assignments at random to the other four teams. 

“Everyone have their assignments?” Ahsoka asked and everyone nodded, ready to run to their stations. “You have four hours and your time starts NOW!” 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan rushed to their kitchen, already drafting ideas for their piñata cake. They decided to keep the exterior elegant and simple with a poured chocolate ganache glaze and white chocolate spiderwebs. They would let the surprise inside be the shining start, not only hiding the required candy, but a design built right into their cake layers. They decided to use a cocoa cake with white frosting so when the cake was cut in half, the clean frosting would be in the design of a spider, the candy pouring out of the spider’s abdomen. 

Qui-Gon chuckled to himself as he watched Obi-Wan prepare and portion their layers, unwilling to risk a repeat of the day before's mishap, “Hey Obi-Wan, wouldn’t you say life is _batter_ with cake?”

“Would you please just get that buttercream done?” Obi-Wan grunted, trying to hide his small smile at the overused pun. 

“Of course!” There was a rapid _click click click_ and the smell of gas and fire hit Obi-Wan’s nose. 

“Qui-Gon, what are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked, scared to turn around. 

“Heating the bowl so the butter will mix into the meringue faster.” Qui-Gon answered matter-of-factly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Obi-Wan turned around slowly, watching in shocked silence as a large butane torch was waved around the mixing bowl, heating the glass.

“And before you say anything about proper techniques, I know this one works. Very well.” Qui-Gon continued. 

“Where did you even come up with that bit of bullshit?!” Obi-Wan was tired and they had only been working for an hour. 

“I had to figure out a lot on my own when you left me, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon said, his eyes dark and unreadable. 

Obi-Wan sputtered, “When _I_ left _you_ ?! Oh, that's rich coming from Mr. Live-in-the-Moment!” Before Obi-Wan could continue, the cameras and hosts turned back to them and he cut the tirade off, not wanting to drag _that_ bit of information into the public eye, and focused instead on their syrup soak. 

The cameras moved on soon enough, and Obi-Wan turned back to check on their frosting, but could only glare at the mess Qui-Gon had created while he had been distracted. 

Obi-Wan snapped, gesturing to the piles of dishes accumulating. “Would you _please_ at least try to keep our station clean? Or is even that too much to ask?” 

“It might just be too much to ask today, Obi-Wan. After all, today is all about the _tricks._ ” Obi-Wan’s head snapped up, hearing the smile in Qui-Gon’s voice. He looked to the older man, the all two familiar grin the only warning Obi-Wan had before a large spoonful of fluffy white Italian meringue buttercream was dragged slowly across his cheek and neck, sticky and fragrant with vanilla. 

“And I know you are full of them yourself.” Qui-Gon whispered in Obi-Wan’s ear, leaning over Obi-Wan. The shiver and heat that ripped through Obi-Wan’s body made him suddenly grateful for the required long apron. Qui-Gon went back to his mixing bowl, letting Obi-Wan clean his face as best as he could. 

“Bakers! Your attention please!” Ahsoka yelled cheerfully. Obi-Wan groaned, the requisite mid-bake surprise long forgotten. 

“We thought you may have had enough tricks for one day, so we decided to surprise you with these treats!” Anakin stood beside her, his smile sharp and smug. “You must also include one of these mystery ingredients in your finished desserts.” 

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to bolt to the indicated table, which was full of unlabeled canisters. He grabbed one of the closest and ran back, popping the lid only to find a solid block of ice inside. Obi-Wan could make out something in the middle, but the ice would need to be melted before they could do anything with the unknown ingredient. 

“What?” Anakin responded to another team, “You really thought we wouldn’t have one more trick up our sleeves?” The hosts cackled, watching teams scramble to melt the ice. Obi-Wan threw theirs under the tap, hoping it would be enough to get it melted quickly. 

“Oh for Force’s sake Obi-Wan, sometimes a bit of aggression won’t hurt.” Qui-Gon lifted the ice from the sink, throwing it against the ground with a large clatter and cheers from the hosts. He lifted a small bottle from the remnants, labeled as Potion #9. When he twisted the cap, Qui-Gon laughed at the smell of alcohol floating through the air. 

“Here, taste this.” Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan the cap, who took a sip and gagged at the strength. 

“Pastis?” Obi-Wan asked, even though he was sure of the answer. 

Qui-Gon nodded, “I’m going to go ahead and throw it in our soak. It’s a bit of a risk, chocolate and anise, but I think it's worth it.” 

“Agreed, but make sure to taste it on some scrap cake first. Don’t want to blow Mace’s taste buds.”

In the end, reward turned out to be well worth the risk, the judges loved the subtleness they were able to achieve with the pastis when combined with their sweet frosting and velvety chocolate cake. They had even stunned the annoyingly talkative Jar-Jar into silence with their unique hidden spider design, which is what landed them the main heat win. 

Obi-Wan felt like they were on top of the world when they were released from filming, but that didn’t stop him from pulling Qui-Gon into the closet at the first chance he got, scolding him over the sticky frosting smear that still coated his jacket and neck, unbuttoning his shirt to show just how low it had gotten. 

Qui-Gon grinned and pulled Obi-Wan close to nuzzle at his sugar crusted neck, “How did it even get down there I wonder? ”

“You _wonder,_ you giant asshole? You smeared half of our buttercream across my face. I had to go into judging looking like a two year old after a mud fight.”

“Ah, but see I planned ahead and made _extra._ And their costumes today were far messier than you could ever be. But let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” Qui-Gon didn’t waste any time, crowding further into Obi-Wan’s space, pushing him against the shelves before beginning to lick and nibble down Obi-Wan’s neck. The sugar in the frosting had enough time to dry and fully crystalize against Obi-Wan’s neck, and each drag of Qui-Gon’s broad tongue was coarse against his overly sensitive skin, igniting Obi-Wan’s nerves in pleasure. 

Obi-Wan moaned into the attention, squirming as Qui-Gon finished unbuttoning and removed his jacket and pushed his tight fitting undershirt up and over Obi-Wan’s head to pin his arms against his back, leaving his chest and stomach thrust forward and exposed to Qui-Gon’s attention. 

“How beautiful you are, my Obi-Wan, so perfect. How I have missed you.” Qui-Gon’s gaze was like a starving man set before a feast, and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to be devoured. Obi-Wan keened as Qui-Gon sucked and teased at one of his nipples, the delicate skin still sore from the prior day’s activities. Qui-Gon took it as the invitation it was, slowly making his way down Obi-Wan’s stomach, unbuttoning Obi-Wan’s jeans as he went. Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan’s pants down just enough to let his hardening cock free, while effectively keeping his legs locked together. 

Obi-Wan could only watch, shaking with anticipation as Qui-Gon lowered his head to lick and tease the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock before slowly working his way up and down the length, whispering words of praise into Obi-Wan’s skin. It felt like hours of sweet torture before Qui-Gon made his way back up. 

“Delicious.” Qui-Gon hummed before swallowing Obi-Wan to the root, taking him with ease. Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t last, everything too much for him to bear. He clenched his hands, sucking in deep breaths, trying to stave off the inevitable. 

Qui-Gon pulled off with a soft _pop_ , kissing the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock as he did so. “It’s alright Obi-Wan. You can let go.” He murmured before beginning once more, his large hand wandering lower, drawing patterns in Obi-Wan’s skin. 

“I’m going to— “ Obi-Wan wasn't even able to finish his sentence when his release washed over him. Instead of pulling away, Qui-Gon sucked him through his orgasm, drawing out the pleasure with every touch. Obi-Wan slumped against the shelves, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. 

Qui-Gon carefully wiped Obi-Wan clean before tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants and standing. 

“What about you?”

Qui-Gon shrugged, “There will be plenty of time later. It’s pretty late, we should probably get back to the hotel before we get caught. I’ll go first.”

Obi-Wan nodded, pulling back on his jacket and apron while Qui-Gon slipped out the door. Once Qui-Gon was long gone, Obi-Wan followed. The studio was practically deserted and Obi-Wan jumped when he ran into Anakin in one of the hallways, seemingly pouting outside a changing room door. Obi-Wan politely waved, and Anakin returned it in kind. The door opened with a soft click and Anakin quickly slipped through. 

Obi-Wan shook his head and picked up his pace. He was emotionally and physically exhausted, and was again disappointed in himself for giving into his desires. He wished things could have been different between them, that he could have convinced Qui-Gon to love him, or at least stay his friend, even after Qui-Gon had gotten what he needed from Obi-Wan. 

With his heart heavy and limbs weary, Obi-Wan slipped into bed, all at once excited and terrified of what the next day would bring. 


	3. Chapter 3

Day three almost seemed like child's play after the main heat of day two. The theme was less about Halloween itself and more of a celebration of the fall season, with the required tartlets flavored with autumnal dried fruits and spices. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon came in second easily, with Cal and Merrin winning the round. Obi-Wan beamed with pride at his apprentice’s success. If he was being honest with himself, it would almost be a bigger credit to Obi-Wan’s name if Cal took the championship, even if it meant finding a different way to replace the second oven.

The main heat challenge was to make “bundt-kin” patches from miniature bundt cakes. The real hardship was that everything needed to be made without animal products as a “true celebration” of the fall harvest. The intricate molds would be made even trickier without butter to keep the cakes from sticking. 

“Obi-Wan, can we make Yoda’s apple and olive oil cake? The one you taught me?” Qui-Gon asked, eyes bright. 

Obi-Wan was taken back by the request, The cake was hideous and lumpy from the apple and weirdly green from the olive oil. He had honestly forgotten that they had even made it together, it was Yoda’s favorite and Qui-Gon had helped make it for the master baker’s birthday a couple years prior. 

Obi-Wan readily agreed and they slipped into quiet work, Obi-Wan focused on the cakes themselves while Qui-Gon worked on their sugar and chocolate decorations. The round went by swiftly, even the thyme given to them halfway through as their twist ingredient was easily incorporated into their icing and crumble topping. 

It wasn’t until their supplemental interview, taken while waiting for their judgement slot that anything went amiss. Obi-Wan was again distracted by just how close Qui-Gon was sitting, their legs brushing casually as the producer asked them question after question. 

“So Qui-Gon, why are you here? What drove you to enter? ” Aalya asked. 

“I lost my teaching position due to further budget cuts and a... _ different _ opportunity fell through. So I decided to start  _ Maverick _ , but one standard home oven can't keep up with demands and mine is finally on its last legs.” 

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon surprised, “I didn’t know that, about Coruscant High.”

“You never bothered to ask, Obi-Wan. It was right before the competition last year.” Obi-Wan bowed his head, his mind racing while Qui-Gon continued to tell her about his work and favorite decorating styles. 

Why would Qui-Gon have turned him down so mercilessly if he had been jobless? Obi-Wan would have done anything he could to help, to make sure Qui-Gon was taken care of. Maybe that was the problem, maybe Qui-Gon found it better to face joblessness alone than with Obi-Wan. It made his chest ache, the realization that even at Qui-Gon’s lowest, Obi-Wan still wasn’t enough for him. 

“— about you Obi-Wan?” The producer’s question snapping Obi-Wan from his spiraling thoughts. He smiled, asking her to repeat the question. 

“What about you Obi-Wan? What makes winning so important to you? Other than one Cal Kestis trying to burn down your brand new bakery.”

Obi-Wan laughed, “If I am honest, that is definitely the main reason. It would also be nice to expand  _ Boga  _ a little bit, give my crew a bonus if I can after the repairs.” 

The interview continued as normal, but Obi-Wan was haunted by Qui-Gon’s sad eyes and the confusion plaguing his heart. 

After judging for the day was completed and yet another team was sent home, Obi-Wan wished he could say that he was surprised that they were once again in the tiny broom closet. This time, there hadn’t even been a true argument to bring him to this point, with his legs wrapped around Qui-Gon’s hips, the smell of apples and cinnamon intoxicating him further with every panting breath. 

Qui-Gon purred as he sucked love bites onto Obi-Wan’s exposed chest, sending a shiver down Obi-Wan’s spine. His large hand trailed lower, rubbing circles into Obi-Wan’s skin before slipping down the waistband of Obi-Wan’s pants. Obi-Wan mewled as a calloused finger teased at his rim, the friction perfect even dry. 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon growled in Obi-Wan’s ear, his hunger a match for Obi-Wan’s own. “My Obi-Wan, will you let me fuck you? Fuck that tight little hole, show you just how perfect you are.”

Obi-Wan moaned, grinding backwards against the teasing finger. “As much as I want that, I don’t just keep  _ lube  _ on me during a baking competition.” 

Qui-Gon smiled and used his free hand to pull a small lidded cup out of his own coat pocket. 

Obi-Wan blinked, looking up to Qui-Gon. “Is that  _ olive oil?  _ That you stole from the studio kitchen? Wait, is this why you wanted to make that stupid  _ ugly _ olive oil apple bundt?!”

“So what if it is? The judges  _ loved  _ it, and so will you.” Qui-Gon popped open the lid, the smells of fall spice infused olive oil saturating the air. 

“It's going to stain my jeans!” Obi-Wan looked down at his worn pants, covered in bits of apple and glaze. 

“A lot more than that has stained those pants, Obi-Wan. I know, I’ve helped.” 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue, but all he could do was moan  _ please  _ when Qui-Gon lightly brushed against his rim, kneading the sensitive surrounding skin. 

“So good for me, Obi-Wan. Now, let’s get those pants off you.” Qui-Gon made short work of Obi-Wan’s remaining clothes, pooling them at Obi-Wan’s feet before opening his jeans and letting his own erection free. 

Qui-Gon’s oil slicked fingers massaged and rubbed, slowly stretching Obi-Wan open on two large fingers. 

“Qui-Gon, I’m ready.” Obi-Wan begged as a third teased his hole. In response, Qui-Gon laughed and slowly worked the third in alongside the others, letting Obi-Wan squirm and plead for  _ more.  _ Obi-Wan had missed this, the feeling of letting Qui-Gon take control, of his large fingers against Obi-Wan’s skin. Of feeling like he was cherished and cared for. 

Obi-Wan could almost let himself believe the lie as Qui-Gon replaced his fingers with his cock, filling Obi-Wan completely in a single thrust. Obi-Wan sighed and let himself fall into the rhythm, releasing all of the anger and pain he had held onto so tightly for so long, just for that one blissful moment. 

Neither lasted much longer, the heat and tension and desire too much. Obi-Wan trembled as he came apart in Qui-Gon’s arms, Qui-Gon whispering praise as he fucked him through their orgasms. 

Qui-Gon gently held Obi-Wan close, and Obi-Wan pressed against Qui-Gon’s chest, reluctant to let go, as Qui-Gon cleaned them both with a towel he had “permanently borrowed” from the kitchen. Satisfied that they were clean enough, Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan dress and walked him back to the hotel.

“Goodnight, my Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon softly kissed Obi-Wan, leaving him on his doorstep. As he watched Qui-Gon’s broad frame disappear down the hallway, Obi-Wan’s heart ached, whishing that it was real. 


	4. Chapter 4

After winning yet another first round for their orange and spice cookies on day four, finely decorated by Qui-Gon’s steady hand in replica tarot cards, Obi-Wan was beginning to feel confident, which was always a dangerous game to play. 

Especially when building gingerbread houses, or in this case, gingerbread  _ haunted  _ houses. They had been lucky, their win had given them fifteen minutes of extra time to start baking before the other teams, giving them extra time at the end to make sure their decorations and tasting gingerbread monster cookies would be perfect. 

They were half way through the round and had just pulled Qui-Gon’s hand cut structure pieces and traditional men shaped cookies, which would be decorated as vampires and witches, from the ovens and were letting them cool when Anakin and Ahsoka yelled through the kitchen.

“Bakers!” Anakin called out. “Just like no home is complete without a pet, no haunted house would be complete without the family’s lovable pet  _ monster.” _

Ahsoka continued, “Whether it's the licorice monster in the closet or the cookie ghoul under the bed, your bakes must now include a loveable friend for your gingerbread families! They do not need to be made from gingerbread, but they must be edible.”

“You have two hours left!” Both hosts proclaimed, joining the judges at their table.

There was a softly whispered  _ fuck  _ from Qui-Gon’s station. Obi-Wan joined him, looking for the problem and to discuss their pet options. Qui-Gon had started trying to assemble their pieces using royal icing, but their gingerbread was far too soft, flexing and bending. 

“How long did you bake it for?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Thirty-five minutes, which should have been more than plenty.” Qui-Gon rubbed his chin, staring at the cookies. 

They were much more moist than Obi-Wan remembered the recipe being, like— 

“Did you add anything to it? Measured it all exactly?” He asked, already sure he knew the answer.

“Yes, of course, I—” Qui-Gon stopped. 

“Eyeballed the molasses and didn't actually  _ level  _ the cups of flour?”

Qui-Gon bowed his head, “Yes. Exactly that.” 

“This is why we measure  _ everything _ , Qui-Gon!” Obi-Wan sighed, centering himself. “Okay here is what we are going to do. Put them back into the blast chiller to harden as much as they can. Don’t cover them, hopefully the fan in there will dry them out. I’ll start melting some isomalt and can use it to coat the backs for added structure _.  _ If you work on the pet twist, we should just finish in time, but  _ only  _ if we get started  _ now.” _

Qui-Gon nodded, an unexpected smile on his hips. 

“Okay let’s get to work.” Obi-Wan began by melting what felt like buckets of isomalt sugar. It would be risky, and the judges wouldn’t like the added structure to the cookies, but it would be better than presenting nothing at all. They were fortunate that the judges would be eating the monster “family” they were creating from the man shaped cut outs. 

Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead, willing the budding headache to at least hold off for a few more hours while he dipped and brushed the gingerbread with melted sugar. The freezer had done a lot for them, drying out the cookies and forcing the fat to solidify. 

With the pieces finally cooked and coated, he was able to begin building the main structure. The fiddly details would be done by Qui-Gon once the pet was finished and the house was built while Obi-Wan worked on their “family” of tasting cookies. He left these ones chewy, and would use a highly flavored icing to give them better taste and a bit of a snap texture. He could only hope that their taste would be enough to see them through to the next day’s finals. 

During the judging, Padme and Mace tutted and critiqued them for the isomalt, calling it a hack or cheat. Obi-Wan was just glad the building actually stayed standing, unlike the team that had gone home, whose structure had crumbled as it was moved to the judges table. 

And that Qui-Gon was a master of his craft. They had been praised for the simple, yet highly effective white icing on their house, all piped by Qui-Gon in a Victorian style, the icing as delicate and intricate as lace, letting them win the daily challenge. 

Obi-Wan had quickly pulled Qui-Gon back to the closet, ready to argue about proper measurements. Before he could even get started, Qui-Gon had wrapped Obi-Wan in his arms, quieting him with a kiss. 

“I wish you knew just how much I like it when you get bossy in the kitchen.” Qui-Gon rumbled into Obi-Wan’s ear. He was leaning against the shelving as he continued kissing any available skin. It was tame considering everything else they had done in the closet, but Obi-Wan had never felt so vulnerable, Qui-Gon never taking his eyes off Obi-Wan. 

It had only been four days and Obi-Wan was already dreading losing Qui-Gon.  _ Again.  _ Even if he was prepared this time, even if he knew how it would all end. 

“Why did you walk away that night, Obi-Wan? I thought we were happy.” Qui-Gon whispered, his voice heavy. 

Obi-Wan pulled back quickly, old pain flaring to life, his heart flayed open at the accusation. He had laid himself bare that night, had offered up everything he was and had to Qui-Gon Jinn, only to have it thrown back onto his face in less than five words. 

“What do you mean, why did  _ I  _ walk away? You had gotten everything you wanted from me!”

“That is not what I meant, Obi-Wan.” 

“Your exact words were, ‘What else is there?’ Qui-Gon. Like I should have offered you the entire world on a platter. I offered you  _ everything  _ I had when asked you to own  _ Boga  _ as my equal partner.  _ To be my partner in every meaning of the word.  _ I had nothing left to  _ give _ , Qui-Gon, and you made it pretty clear that it wasn’t enough. That  _ I  _ wasn’t enough.” 

“Obi-Wan, that is  _ not—” _

“This was a mistake. I will see you tomorrow for the finals, Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan untangled himself and bolted out the door and down the hall, unsure if he was running from Qui-Gon or from himself. 


	5. Chapter 5

Obi-Wan was tired. He had spent most of the night huddled in the cold hotel bed, letting his thoughts spiral as he thought of Qui-Gon and their history, of what could have been.

He felt fortunate that there was no preheat or random twist on day five, the two teams given six total hours to build a towering three tiered wedding cake based on a “monster marriage mashup.” Each baker was given one tier to showcase their individual talents, but the center would be a collaboration and needed to be a celebration of their monster couples. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had drawn the cards for vampire and werewolf. 

They made it through the first four hours in almost complete silence, only speaking to plan the cake and what would be done on their middle tier. Obi-Wan had been so distracted after noticing the small twinge of hurt in Qui-Gon’s voice, that he wasn’t even sure what Qui-Gon had planned for his werewolf groom tiers, only that he had readily agreed to Obi-Wan’s black and white fondant design and that Obi-Wan would cover his cakes in handcrafted sugar peonies. The flowers were designed to look aged and dried instead of vibrant and fresh to highlight Obi-Wan’s vampire groom.

Obi-Wan had just finished stacking his tier and was preparing to finish covering the middle “Obi-Wan, would you be alright starting on the top tier’s decoration first? I would like to finish this before starting on that.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, “Sure.”

The rest of the challenge went almost as quietly as the first part, Qui-Gon finishing his tier and his half of the top quickly, even helping Obi-Wan with the final touches on his own. 

During their waiting period and judgement, Obi-Wan felt like he was underwater, dragging and drowning in his own guilt and hurt. He was halfway through describing his chocolate dipped strawberry cake when he suddenly realized that he had made Qui-Gon’s favorite flavors, and had used one of his favorite flowers. Even when he was furious and heartbroken, it seemed that Obi-Wan couldn’t help but love Qui-Gon. 

“And Qui-Gon, tell us about your tier.” Padme asked, gesturing to the painted white fondant layer. 

“I started with a vanilla bean wedding cake which I filled with a blood red berry compote and a chocolate cream patisserie. The outside is fondant, which I let set and then hand painted to look like stained glass.” Obi-Wan hadn’t paid that much attention to Qui-Gon’s work, lost in his own thoughts and decorations. 

“Your art and attention to detail is stunning. It actually looks like antique glass.” Padme said, awed by the delicate details. “What was your inspiration?”

Qui-Gon bowed his head, a broken smile in his eyes. “A bit of this and that. It tells our couple's love story.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up, realizing and understanding what he was seeing as the judges pointed out details of the tangled love story it told. He couldn’t look away from their cake as Qui-Gon outlined his intent behind each ‘window’. It was subtle, what Qui-Gon had done, weaving their time together into the love story he crafted for their couple, starting with their first introduction in his art class and the trials of opening _Boga_ that they had faced together.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard as he continued, telling the judges of how both sides had felt unworthy of the other, the werewolf’s doubts blinding him to what was most important, driving them apart. But, Obi-Wan could see the faults of the vampire as well, who hadn’t listened, who had run away in fear. Obi-Wan’s heart shattered, the brutal realization coming far too late. It wasn’t Qui-Gon who had driven them apart, but Obi-Wan’s own foolishness. 

Qui-Gon moved on to their shared top tier, his half continuing with more windows, scenes of a bright and loving relationship, events that Obi-Wan had once thought were his future. 

But the crowning jewel was the poured sugar panel Qui-Gon had built for the wedding topper, painted and decorated entirely by hand of their two grooms at the altar, exchanging rings. The judges would never be able to tell, or really understand what it meant, but the tall werewolf had paint brushes in his coat pocket and the bearded vampire held a whisk along with his blue and green bouquet of roses.

Obi-Wan couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed what Qui-Gon was doing during the baking and decorating. He almost wished he had, his emotions rushing through his chest, pulling tight at his heart. It was an apology and confession unlike any other, perfectly Qui-Gon. Perfectly _them._

Obi-Wan blinked back the tears that threatened to over take him, instead reaching out, taking Qui-Gon’s hand in his own as they listened to the judges eat their cake. Qui-Gon turned to him, understanding and a small smile on his lips. There would be plenty of time for words after they finished filming. 

The rest of their judging was a blur of cake slices and commentary and before they knew it, both teams were brought out before the judges one final time.

As Obi-Wan expected, the win went to Cal and Merrin, the judges’ vote unanimous in the favor. Obi-Wan couldn’t have been happier with the outcome, even if he had won himself. Cal had worked hard and Obi-Wan had always known he would be outclassed by the young baker someday, even if that day was much sooner than he planned. 

“Qui-Gon. Can we talk?” Obi-Wan asked as they were escorted out of their farewell interviews, suddenly scared that he had been mistaken or had assumed too much. 

Qui-Gon laced their hands together and pulled Obi-Wan towards the closet. Before they could reach it, the doors to the judges interview set slammed open and Padme dragged Anakin across the hall into the closet, pulling the door shut behind them.

Obi-Wan laughed, “Well I guess that explains some things.” 

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow but didn’t ask for further details. “I have the hotel room another night. We can talk there?” 

“I thought the studio only paid through last night?” 

“They did, but let's just say I was hopeful, and paid for the extra night myself.” It was Obi-Wan’s turn to be surprised, and he let Qui-Gon walk him through the studio to the hotel to gather Obi-Wan’s stored luggage from the front desk. 

“I guess I should tell you the whole truth. I asked Tahl to put us together as a team, but only if you said yes. She’s an old friend.” Qui-Gon said once they reached his suite. 

Obi-Wan stopped in confusion, trying to comprehend. “She told me you were my only option, that I had to work with you or I couldn’t enter. Of course I was going to say yes.”

Qui-Gon laughed. “That sounds like Tahl.” He frowned, looking at Obi-Wan. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. For the deceit. I thought it was the only way I would ever get you to actually _talk_ to me again. And then the closet happened, and I wasn’t sure what to think.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, joining Qui-Gon on the sofa. “Don’t be. I am just as at fault. Especially for last year. I thought, I thought you meant I wasn’t enough.”

Qui-Gon drew Obi-Wan into his arms once more, “Obi-Wan, it is I that has never been good enough for you.” He kissed Obi-Wan’s forehead, cradling him close, their exhaustion finally weighing on them both.

The silence was warm and comfortable, Obi-Wan’s mind calm and clear for the first time since the competition had begun, maybe even since he had walked away from Qui-Gon. He thought of Cal and what losing him would mean for _Boga_ , of what his future would hold. Of what he wanted for his future. 

“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan buried his face closer to Qui-Gon’s skin when he hummed in reply, placing small kisses along Obi-Wan’s jaw. “It looks like I am going to be down a junior baker and you are still oven-less. How would you feel about a job? With me I mean.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, bushing a finger along Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I think I am a bit beyond a junior baker at this point Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan could feel the blush creep up his cheeks, unsure of how to ask for what he truly wanted. “I was actually hoping we could discuss a trial partnership of sorts. You could come run _Maverick_ out of my kitchen, help me with some of the bigger orders and see if we can work together again and go from there?”

Qu-Gon hummed, pleased with the idea. “There is nothing else I could ever want more, my Obi-Wan.” 

****

“Do you think he will like it?” Qui-Gon squinted at the offending cake, asking Bant for the hundredth time as they waited for Obi-Wan to join them for what they were calling an anniversary party, celebrating _Boga_ ’s second year in operation. Most of the crew, as well as many of Obi-Wan’s friends from school and _The Temple._

It had been almost a year since Qui-Gon had agreed to Obi-Wan’s trial run. They had agreed to a year under the original terms, but it had only taken six months of working side by side before they had practically moved in together and for Qui-Gon to decide to let Maverick go in favor of working at Boga full time. Their clients couldn't have been happier with the change, finally having Obi-Wan’s flavor profiles and Qui-Gon’s artistic style all in one place. 

It had taken even less for Qui-Gon to know exactly what he wanted for their future. He had loved Obi-Wan Kenobi for years, believing that he never stood a chance with the brilliant baker, until Obi-Wan had kissed him the night Qui-Gon had baked him that disastrous birthday cake. He took things slow, scared he would push Obi-Wan away by loving him too fast, too soon. And then Obi-Wan had asked him to be his partner, and there truly was nothing else in the world he had wanted more. 

But of course, Qui-Gon had ruined that in a moment, careless words driving Obi-Wan away. Qui-Gon had been let go from his teaching position a few days prior, and had been scared to tell Obi-Wan, to make Obi-Wan feel obligated to help him. His heart screamed “What else could I want?”, “What more could I ever even desire?”, “What else could there possibly be in the world that I could ever want more than this?” when Obi-Wan proposed.

“What else is there?” Qui-Gon had asked instead, struggling so hard to find the words to explain just how much he loved Obi-Wan, to say that there was nothing else he would rather do. When what he should have said was simply “I love you.”

Qui-Gon had a second chance now, to do right by Obi-Wan, and he couldn’t bear the thought of letting that chance slip through his fingers. 

“You made it, so of course he is going to like it, Qui-Gon.” Bant answered. “And even more, he is going to love what you did for the topper.”

“It's not too silly?” Qui-Gon had spent days painting the sides, a mimicry of the stained glass he had done for the Bake-Off final. The werewolf and vampire had been replaced with himself and Obi-Wan, and panels of their new lives together had been added, completing their story the way it should have been told. The topper, as Bant had called it, was more of a painting then a cake topper, the most important painting Qui-Gon had ever completed. 

“Hey, are you guys ready to get this party started?” Obi-Wan was still in his chef whites, apron coated in batter and chocolate and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Qui-Gon had never seen anyone more beautiful. 

“Just waiting on you, we are, young Kenobi.” Yoda smiled, hugging Obi-Wan.

“Champaign anyone?” Kit asked, passing around plastic cups.

Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan into the booth next to him, holding him close while the team dragged up memories of their years together, the night spent in easy laughter and good food. They had welcomed Qui-Gon with open arms, even if Bant was wary, warning him of the consequences of ever breaking Obi-Wan’s heart again. 

“Would anyone care for some cake?” Bant asked, rolling out a cart with various slices and Qui-Gon’s decorated cake. 

Obi-Wan was distracted, listening to Cal tell him about his travels and new experiences and his plans with Merrin. Qui-Gon took the cake from Bant, placing it on the table facing Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm while his heart tried to jackrabbit out of his chest. “Would you like some?” He scooted it closer and Cal’s eye’s widened, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention to the stand. 

“What...what is this?” Obi-Wan stared at the cake, his surprise evident as he turned the cake, following the story written in sugar. His eyes went even wider as he noticed the sugar panel, a painting of Qui-Gon on one knee, a ring in his hand held out to Obi-Wan. 

“Qui— are you...what?” 

Qui-Gon pulled the actual ring from his pocket, kneeling next to Obi-Wan. “You don’t have to say yes, if you want to think about it. I just—” Qui-Gon was cut off, Obi-Wan lips over his own. 

“Of course I say yes, you ridiculous, sweet man.” Obi-Wan kissed him again while the room cheered, the taste of his lips sweeter than sugar.


End file.
